Melanie guided the older woman through the hole, asked one of the guards forming a relay line in the tunnel to help her, and turned to face Marcus.
Just as she had anticipated, the immortal’s face was full of disapproval.
“They let the vampires out?”
“In case you hadn’t noticed, the vampires are helping us. The immortals are fighting the soldiers above ground and are doing their damnedest to keep them from demolishing the whole building. The vampires are working on the inside, taking out the soldiers they encounter and rescuing all of the network employees they can.”
As if on cue, another blurred form shot toward them through the throng. Joe halted, a man draped over his shoulder. The vampire eyed Marcus impassively as he lowered the man’s feet to the floor.
The man straightened, brushed at the dust on his torn suit, and squinted up at Joe. “Thank you.”
Joe turned luminescent blue eyes on Melanie. “He isn’t injured.”
The man shook his head. “I’m fine. A few bruises is all. I just can’t see shit without my glasses.” Eyelids nearly touching, he peered around them. “Where are we?”
“Sublevel 5,” Melanie told him. She motioned to another of the guards in the tunnel. “This man will help you evacuate. Thank you, Joe,” she added with a smile for the vampire.
“Yes,” the man said over his shoulder. “Thank you, Joe.”
Melanie had no idea if the man knew he had been saved by a vampire rather than an immortal.
Joe nodded and raced away.
Marcus muttered something Melanie couldn’t hear over the sounds of war.
Melanie saw a woman with a bad head wound staggering toward her and hurried over to offer what aid she could.
Killing or capturing the mercenaries—the d’Alençons seemed convinced now that they were mercenaries—would’ve been a hell of a lot easier if Bastien didn’t constantly have to dodge bullets fired from the helicopter that hovered above them. He had hoped one of the dumbasses in the Humvees would hurl a grenade at him so he could lob it into the second helo and eliminate it like the first, but no such luck.
Bastien swore when another dart stuck him in the neck. That was the fifth one and, so far, Melanie’s antidote was working splendidly. Bullets peppered his body as he plowed through a cluster of soldiers. Grunting, he swung his blades and savored their screams.
Leaping up onto the Sisu, he slit another soldier’s throat and took possession of the machine gun. Finally. He’d take out the Black Hawk and—
As he aimed the heavy weapon at the chopper, what looked like a huge martial eagle with a ten- or twelve-foot wingspan swooped out of the lightening sky and dove through the helicopter, in one door and out the other. Soldiers, weapons, and ammo tumbled out and fell to the ground.
The helicopter wobbled erratically as the pilots panicked.
The raptor wheeled around and dove straight for the nose of the copter. At the last second the eagle spread its wings and extended its legs forward. Its talons drove through the front windows, shattering glass and bending metal, and clutched the two pilots.
The engine whined as the helicopter began to spin. Deftly avoiding the blades, the eagle yanked the pilots through the shattered windows and dropped them like stones.
What. The. Hell.
Bastien barely noticed the helicopter crash and burn. His gaze followed the eagle as it swooped down and ducked into the forest.
Bullets struck Bastien.
Swearing, he turned the machine gun on the soldiers firing at him. When that bunch had fallen, he looked back at the forest, searching for the raptor.
David stepped from the trees.
Shit. David could shape-shift? Nobody had told him immortals could shape-shift.
The elder immortal was garbed all in black. As he strode into the melee, his long dreadlocks wove themselves into a braid and knotted at the base. His eyes flashed bright amber. He reached over his head and drew two drool-worthy Masamune swords.
I know Ami is here.
A chill accompanied that deep voice in Bastien’s head.
If anything happens to her, you’re dead.
David’s large form blurred. More screams joined the chorus of others already splitting the night.
A bullet ripped through Bastien’s thigh.
Shaking off the distractions, he leapt down and raced for the nearest soldier. The soldier’s companions yelped when Bastien yanked him from their midst and ducked into the forest to feed on him.
As warm blood entered his veins, the virus swiftly began to repair the many wounds Bastien had suffered, pushing bullets from his flesh, closing the holes, and stopping the bleeding.
The sun would crest the horizon soon. The towering trees around them would offer some protection, but all needed to be at full strength.
Dropping the soldier, Bastien returned to the battle.
Stuart did one more sweep of Sublevel 3. When he found no more survivors, he headed for the elevator shaft.
Two forms shot past in a blur. The other vampires.
Stuart liked Cliff. But didn’t really know what to think about Joe. The blond vamp was throwing off some eerie vibes.
Since those two headed into Sublevel 2, Stuart leapfrogged up to the first basement level.
This floor was all shot to shit. Huge, gaping holes in the ceiling let him see a sky brightening with approaching dawn. If this didn’t end soon, whoever was left up here would die here, because he wasn’t going to fry in the sun for anyone.
He had almost fried once right after he was turned. He hadn’t understood what had happened to him and . . .
Stuart shuddered, remembering.
Fear trickled in. Or rather more fear. That immortal down on Sublevel 5 was freaking him out, staring at him with those fury-filled eyes every time Stuart delivered another walking wounded.
What the hell was he so pissed about? Stuart hadn’t meant to bring all of this down on their heads. How was he supposed to know that tracking thing had been stuck in his head? He hadn’t felt anything. The stupid drug the mercenaries had given him must have slowed the virus’s ability to repair enough to keep the virus from pushing the damned thing out. Or maybe they did something to keep it in there.
If he had known it was there, he would have cut it out himself. Probably. That shit had hurt. But the knowledge that someone was tracking him or stalking him was creepy. And irritating. Like the time his parents had secretly tracked him using a GPS device and busted him for going to a party that had had drugs and alcohol at it.
So it’s not like he had wanted that thing in his head. Or wanted to help those human pricks.
And wasn’t Stuart helping the immortals and their human friends now to make up for it?
He was doing his part. Making up for his mistake.
Yet that ass avenger on Sublevel 5 kept glaring at him as if he wanted to cut Stuart into little pieces.
Whatever.
Stuart studied every dusty, dirty lump and peered between chunks of ceiling and whatever the hell used to be upstairs, looking for an arm or leg or any body part belonging to someone who might be trapped.
Beneath the screams and weapons fire outside (What the hell was going on up there? It sounded like the fucking Band of Brothers!), a moan sounded.
Stuart traced it to a pile of granite tile beneath another hole in the ceiling. He started tossing rubble aside.
A woman. It was a woman. He grimaced when he saw the bone protruding from the pudgy arm he uncovered. Ugh! Nasty! Her leg was even worse. He really wasn’t cut out for this crap.
Her face, reddish-brown hair, and clothes were nearly white with dust. “Thank you,” she huffed. “Thank you.”
She raised her eyes, met his, and screamed.
“No-no!” Stuart held up his hands. “It’s okay! It’s cool. I’m here to help you.”
The screaming stopped, thankfully, because this chick had a set of lungs.
She still looked scared as hell though.
“It’s okay,” Stuart repeated and leaned down.
Debris shifted behind him.
Stuart swung around. A dozen human soldiers stalked toward him.
Oh shit. Okay. What should he do? He didn’t have a weapon and these guys were armed out the ass.
Grabbing huge hunks of cement and stone, he started hurling them at the soldiers at preternatural speeds.
He scored a lot of hits before the bullets started flying. Some struck him. Some missed. He thought one might have hit the woman at his feet because she screamed again and started crying.
Pissed off now, Stuart zipped around and came up behind the soldiers. He’d never broken someone’s neck before. It was disturbingly easy.
Only three or four soldiers remained when Stuart had to dodge the first tranquilizer dart. If one of those hit him, he was a goner.
He had to go on the defensive then, dodging the deadly drug. Something hit him in the stomach and bounced to the ground. Ducking another dart, Stuart glanced down.
Oh shit! A grenade!
He leaped away.
Fire. Pain. Deafening noise.
He knew nothing else for he wasn’t sure how long.
He was down. Something heavy was on top of him. He tried to move. One arm, two. One leg, two. He nearly wept he was so relieved. No missing limbs at least.
The woman continued to cry. He almost couldn’t hear her for the ringing in his ears.
Stuart dug his way out of the rubble. The soldiers huddled around the woman. It looked like they were trying to fasten a harness or something around her. Were they going to take her prisoner?
A little wobbly on his feet, Stuart crept up behind them and snapped their necks.
The woman thanked him again and again as he lifted her into his arms and staggered back toward the elevator shaft.
Weird. She felt heavy. He should have been able to carry her above his head with one hand and twirl her like a pizza. But she felt heavy. And he felt tired. And thirsty.
He paused at the edge. “It’s gonna be okay,” he murmured and stepped off into air.
Instead of landing smoothly, he hit what was left of the elevator roof hard. Pain shot up his legs as he stumbled and nearly fell through the opening.
The woman screamed again and clung tightly to him.
“’s okay.” Stuart dropped through into the elevator and started making his way through the throng down the long, seemingly endless hallway.